


The Sword

by characterizer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also it’s Really Short lol, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gen, I’m ignoring season 8 ever existed, Lance (Voltron)-centric, idk man this is just abt like. Acceptance issues mainly, just reflecting on his dad & coming out to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/characterizer/pseuds/characterizer
Summary: Domacles and the sword. The team hurtles ever closer to home, but Lance reflects on the times before they ever left.





	The Sword

_ “Siempre serás su hijo.(1)” _ __ His mother had said to him over the phone that night, the one they’d left with Keith on Blue. The night everything had started. Some of the last words spoken between Lance and his mamá two some odd years ago. Team Voltron passes through the universe, and time simply ceases to exist outside of how they’ve constructed it. They are approaching the Milky Way at speed, and are scheduled to be there within the next movement. Lance distantly hears Pidge talking about how they’re going to have to show Allura and Coran what a Go-Gurt is. Everyone is talking over the comms except for him, but he’s listening in. None of them have seemed to notice his quietness. Or, more likely, they just haven’t commented on it. He’s been mostly silent over the comms for the past few quintaints. 

 

A little purple light blinks on the corner of his dashboard.  _ Incoming private communications request from the Black Lion.  _ Lance hums quietly and contemplates picking up or not. He could just deny the request, and send a private message saying he doesn’t want to talk right now. Keith would understand. He hovers his finger over the reject option for a second. His hand slides over and mutes the incoming audio from the public communications channel. Keith’s request is accepted a tick later. 

 

Keith looks concerned, and he probably has a right to be. Lance is curled up in his pilot’s chair with his favourite blanket wrapped around him. It’s soft and blue, with deep navy patterning around the edges of it and golden flecks scattered across its entirety. He’s aware he looks tired and disheveled. Dissociating towards the window for hours on end, lost in the stars, has replaced sleep more often than not.  _ “Hey man, are you alright?” _

 

Lance hums again, just a little. “Yeah..” he knows he can trust Keith with these, his thoughts. He’s just unsure whether he wants to let them be tangible yet, outside of his own head. “Did you miss me or something?” The tease doesn’t have a lot of dazzle behind it; his smile isn’t full.

 

Keith is humming too. Wow, what a trend setter Lance is.  _ “Just feels like you’re not.”  _ Lance raises one of his eyebrows a little.  _ “Not, uh, alright, I mean. Something felt off.” _ Truly, a man of words.

 

“I don’t know..” his shrug is noncommittal. He tugs the blanket a bit more snug, and rests his cheek on the plush slack balled around his hand on his knee. This blanket has kept much of the worst at bay. The texture keeps him rooted in Red’s cockpit, as opposed to wandering the stars and what-ifs outside of his window. “‘Ve just been thinking. Dunno if I want to talk about it yet.”

 

_ “That’s okay.”  _ And to Keith it truly is okay, Lance knows it. Keith understands, and that fact is just so truly relieving. 

 

His father’s words hang over him; Damocles and the sword. They’ve hung over him since he was 14 years old standing in an airport terminal terrified of his own dad. A tiny concept sitting on his shoulder says that going home will not warrant a happy reunion. Lance is inclined to agree. “I’m really tired, honestly. A nap is in my near future I think. I’ll message later or something, when I wake up.”

 

Keith looks just as concerned as when the call started, but he lets Lance go with ease.  _ “Sounds good. Sleep well, Lance.” _

 

“Thanks.” The call is ended, and he takes himself out of the pilots seat carefully. His joints crackle and pop from the movement after hours of just sitting there. Lance settles himself onto his cot in the rest bay. His father’s words hang over him.

 

_ “Ningún hijo mío irá contra Dios así. No te dejaré jugar juegos locos contigo mismo.(2)” _

 

_ “Entonces no soy tu hijo.(3)” _  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 1) “You will always be his son.”  
> 2) “No son of mine will go against God like that. I will not let you play crazy games with yourself.”  
> 3) “Then I’m not your son.”
> 
> Anyways uhhhhh I wrote this in like 30 mins bc it’s been on my mind for a few days and stuff. The Domacles & the sword metaphor really isn’t explained super clearly in this, just bc I’m posting this as a one shot without really explaining the events that happened when Lance came out to his dad & the stuff the preceded it. Basically he came out to his mom and siblings beforehand & felt really safe bc she accepted him and supported him, but coming out to his father made him unable to truly enjoy the comfort of the acceptance his mother & siblings showed him. Look up the story I’m referencing if you don’t already know it fhsbfjsbjfbsjd, the comparison might make more sense then? (Also sorry for the shitty Spanish, I’m not very good with it so I had to use goog translate! Please notify me of any problems at all and I’ll fix them!)  
> Perhaps don’t compare this to Dirty Laundry btw, I love that fic but don’t like having my works compared to other people’s thank you
> 
> My twitter: @softnarutos


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